The Great Shenanigans of Jake's Eleventh Birthday
by Firebirdd
Summary: Jake Manson cordially invites you to his Eleventh Birthday Party at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry also known as Dad's House. Costumes mandatory. Sequel to Reaching Normality.
1. Entertaining Jake

**Title: **The Great Shenanigans of Jake's Eleventh Birthday

**Rating: **T for some icky romance stuff, and for a few sick children

**Characters:** Jake Manson and friends, Neil/Grace, Philippa/Liam, ensemble

**Summary: **Jake Manson turns eleven! Naturally, this is cause for much talk and excitement. And a big, Harry Potter-themed party! Sequel to _Reaching Normality_ - this story is set just over three months after the ending of that story.

**Disclaimer: **The Bill is owned by Talkback Thames (unfortunately) and I am not making any profit from this (even more unfortunately).

* * *

_The thing he liked most about automatic doors_, Jake Manson mused as he surreptitiously waved his hand in front of them, _was that they often made him feel like a Jedi when they _swoosh _open so satisfyingly_. He entered to find the reception full of people. Shrugging, he simply joined the back of the queue behind a tall guy with dreadlocks. Jake shuddered inwardly, they stank pretty badly, and promised himself he'd never, ever do that to his hair when it grew back fully.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Master Jake," a vaguely familiar voice greeted kindly. Jake turned around, and grinned broadly at the short blonde detective who had paused on her way through reception.

"Hi, Stevie, what's up?" Jake asked. He liked Stevie – not only was she really funny (even Dad found her funny, though he pretended not to) but, most importantly, he was almost as tall as her. Jake bet if she wasn't wearing heels he would be taller.

"Oh, you know, work. What are you doing here?" Stevie said with a smile back at the boy. Despite the DI's best efforts, Jake had on a couple of occasions over the past three months come into the office to wait for a ride home with his dad. It had been a tumultuous time: the DI had taken a fair number of days off work, and no longer put in quite as many hours at the office in order to handle the new living arrangements.

Despite CID's initial trepidation that the DI would be so focussed on his son that Max would take over again (as what happened when Jake was sick), their worries had proven to be unfounded. Manson had regained his usual steady sharpness, and had run CID with an iron fist, making it clear in no uncertain terms from the beginning that he would not tolerate any disruption to the office. Still, many in the department felt it was an understandable, and indeed welcome, change. Except for occasions where he was forced to stay late for no good reason (which would have him in such a foul mood only Grace seemed to feel comfortable anywhere near him), Manson was much easier to work with.

"Oh, Mr Collins was sick so band was cancelled and I left my keys at home today so Dad said to just come here," Jake replied to her question. Dad was okay with him being home alone for a couple of hours if one of his two after-school activities were cancelled. Usually the cool old lady next door (Mrs Potter made him cake!) kept an eye on him after-school. Under normal circumstances, she would have been able to let him in but she was off to Mancester visiting her son.

"Jake, your Dad's still out on the obbo, but how about you come upstairs with me?" Stevie suggested, shooting a dubious look at some of the other … characters … in reception.

"Is that okay?" Jake asked.

"Of course!" Stevie told him, immediately taking his arm and leading him upstairs.

Reaching the crowded CID, Jake found himself the centre of attention again when he stepped into the room.

"Hey Jake," a chorus of voices greeted as Jake waved to them all.

"Grace's interviewing someone at the minute, so why don't you take her desk?" Stevie suggested with a gesture to her colleague's desk. Jake shrugged and nodded, dumping his bag with relief. He'd packed it as lightly as he could, only bringing home two books, but it still felt like it was filled with rocks because his back was so sore.

"So, how have you been, Jake?" Terry asked the boy with a friendly smile.

"Busy," Jake said gravely, adjusting his Leukaemia Cap. His hair had fallen out again with the vincristine at the beginning of the month, so it was still uneven. It was really annoying, but Dr Lawson had promised that the side effects of the drugs he could take instead of vincristine were even worse. "Very, very busy."

"Doing what?" Mickey asked, unable to repress a small grin at the boy's seriousness.

"Well, I turn eleven in two weeks," Jake said proudly. He paused to graciously accept all the birthday wishes. "And of course we're gonna have a big party! So I've been very, very busy working on that."

"What are the party plans?" Banksy asked with an indulgent smile.

"Harry Potter because I'm eleven. So everyone has to dress up as a character. I'm Harry, of course."

"Of course," Stevie nodded. "Who's your Dad going as?"

"He's Mad-Eye Moody," Jake announced. Banksy spluttered, choking on his coffee as Stevie giggled.

"Who's Mad-Eye Moody?" Mickey asked, frowning at his colleagues' reactions.

"The guy with the eye," Jake explained, eyes widening with horror as Mickey shrugged.

"I ain't read the books," he explained.

"How can you have not read Harry Potter?" Jake demanded seriously.

"I've never had the time to read them," he excused himself weakly.

"You need to fix that," Jake said with a frown.

"Mad-Eye Moody is this old, grizzled guy who's the former head of the wizard police," Stevie explained to Mickey. "He's really grumpy and absolutely paranoid." Mickey snorted, the joke becoming more apparent.

"So are you assigning people costumes, Jake, or…?" Terry asked.

"I'm giving people 'suggestions'," Jake replied innocently. "Grace is coming as Madam Bones, you know, the judge on the Wizengamot, Mum's going to be Professor McGonagall, and Liam's coming as Snape."

The adults exchanged surprised and curious looks – Grace and the DI's ex in the same house for a day? This they would pay to see.

As if summoned, Grace arrived in CID.

"Hi, Grace," Jake greeted with a smile, pushing himself out of her chair to offer it to her.

"Hi, Jake," she greeted, waving him back into her chair. "It's all right; I have to go back downstairs in a minute. How was school?"

"Annoying," Jake complained. "You know how we have the history assignment due soon? Well, Mrs Wilkinson was sick –"

"Again?" Grace retrieved the file she wanted, and leant back against her desk to continue the conversation.

"Again! And so we had a stupid substitute and he was like, oh, read finish researching and start writing. I'm done with the research, but I don't know where to start with writing it."

Jake hesitated slightly, fully aware that the attention in CID was focussed on the interaction between him and his Dad's girlfriend.

"Dad's rubbish at history," Jake said quietly and somewhat uncomfortably. "If you're not doing anything tonight…I mean, if you don't mind, would you maybe please come over and help me? Please?"

"Of course, if I can," Grace assured him, quickly covering a flicker of surprise.

"Awesome!" Jake smiled gratefully back at her. "Hey Grace, I'm staaaaaaarving. Can I get something to eat somewhere please?"

"Well, Dad should be back soon," Grace told him, dropping her voice. "And I don't think he's had lunch yet…"

"But it's three-thirty!" Jake said in surprise, glancing at the clock. He gave Grace a conspiratorial wink, nodding firmly. "Don't worry; I'll take care of him."

"Good," Grace smiled back at him. "Did you want a drink before I go back downstairs?"

"Nope, I'm good," Jake assured her.

"All right," Grace smiled at him, lightly touching his shoulder as she pushed herself off her desk. "I'll see you."

Seeing his colleagues about to burst with curiosity, and knowing that the DI would most definitely _not_ appreciate it if they quizzed his son on his love-life, Banksy quickly interceded to keep the conversation focussed on Jake's birthday.

"So, Jake, what are you hoping to get for your birthday?"

"I don't know," Jake shrugged.

"You don't want anything else? My nephew always has a huge list," Stevie said.

Jake shrugged again. "I want a lot of stuff," he said more quietly. "The stuff I want the most I'm not going to get, but I won't say no to a season pass to the Champions' League…" Terry chuckled.

"How do you know you're not going to get the stuff you want the most?" Mickey asked pragmatically. "I'm sure if you asked-"

"I'd like not to be sick any more," Jake cut him off, pulling his cap over his eyes and fiddling with his school tie. "And I'd like a dog, but Dr Lawson would probably say it was a germ risk. She says everything's a germ risk." His voice couldn't have sounded sulkier if he'd tried.

Stevie, Terry and Mickey exchanged glances, all unsure of how to respond. They were used to the DI's kid being young and cheeky and upbeat, not bitter and cranky.

"I'm sorry, Jake," Banksy said gently, recalling the emphasis they'd put on acknowledging the child's feelings in one of many classes on dealing with emotional kids.

"How's life been around here?" Jake barely acknowledged Banksy's words, only giving him a weak smile as he changed the subject.

"Dull," Stevie sighed, before her expression brightened. "Hey! Any tips on convincing your Dad to let us decorate his office for Christmas?"

Practically since her arrival, Stevie had appointed herself the Chief Decorator of CID, often employing Mickey to help her reach the high areas. Her plans to spread the festive cheer always stopped at Neil Manson's door – on her first year, she'd moved to enter his office, arms full of the stuff, only to be stopped dead in her tracks by a baleful glare from the boss. Subsequent efforts had proved equally unsuccessful.

Jake laughed, mood abruptly switching.

"Just do it," Jake told her. "It's easier to apologise than to ask permission."

Terry chuckled. "I think Stevie was trying to _avoid_ getting into trouble," he said good-naturedly.

Jake grinned cheekily. "Never said you wouldn't get in trouble that way – Dad!"

Neil Manson had just entered CID, deep in conversation with Callum Stone. He grunted as his son barrelled into him and enthusiastically wrapped his arms around his waist.

"Hey, mate," Neil kissed the top of his son's head, before releasing the boy. "How's my forgetful boy?"

Jake looked sheepish as he drew back. "Sorry, Dad," he apologised.

"Well, see it doesn't happen again," his father scolded lightly.

"Yes, sir," Jake promised, before grabbing his dad's hands. "Dad, I'm staaaaaaaaaarving!"

"Did you not finish your lunch?" Neil asked.

"I did! I'm still hungry!"

Neil's jaw dropped momentarily. "You mean to say, Jake Alexander, that despite having two ham and cheese sandwiches, an apple and a packet of crisps that you're _still_ starving?"

"Yep! And I also had some of Connor's sandwich," Jake informed him.

"This boy is going to eat me out of house and home," Neil groaned.

"Only while I'm on the prednisone, Dad," Jake pointed out, swinging their joined hands before hopefully continuing, "I could always stop taking it…"

Neil let out a solitary chuckle. "I don't think so, son," he said. "All right. Put your stuff in my office and we'll see what we can find down at the canteen, eh?"

Jake dashed off obediently, and Neil turned back to his colleagues.

"How did he get up here anyway?" he asked.

"I saw him in reception, gov," Stevie admitted. "It was pretty full, so I just thought –"

"No, thank you, Stevie. I just hope he wasn't too much of an irritation," Neil said.

"Oi!" his son objected, returning to lean into his dad's side.

"Gov, before you go," Mickey began, flipping open a file and handing it to the DI.

Jake's attention wandered as the adults discussed the case, but there wasn't anything interesting to look at in CID (not even photos of dead people!).

He sighed loudly, call of his empty stomach intensifying, and Dad's arm tightened around him in silent warning. Stevie threw him a sympathetic glance from her desk to the side and out of eyeshot of Dad and Mickey and he rolled his eyes back at her. Yeah, Jake definitely liked her, he decided when she grinned back at him and began imitating both Mickey and Dad as they spoke. She had obviously done it before: her imitation of Dad in particular was really apt - right down to his borderline-condescending scepticism. Fortunately for Stevie, Neil was engrossed in the conversation with his usual single-minded intensity; otherwise Jake's muffled snorts would have landed her in significant trouble.

"Well, Mickey, you've got to find something more than this or we'll have to release him," Dad said matter-of-factly. "You should have waited to gather more evidence before arresting him. Get to it."

"Yes, gov," Mickey sighed. Seeing some other CID guy approach Dad, mouth opening as if to ask a question, Jake decided enough was enough.

"All right, you've helped Mickey, now let's _go_, Dad," he demanded, grabbing Neil's hand and pulling him towards the exit. "I'm hungrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry."

"Okay, okay," Neil sighed, allowing himself to be pulled out. "So, what did you do today?"

"Nothin'."

"Nothing? You mean Mum and I pay all that money for you to go to school and do nothing?" Neil's voice trailed off as the pair exited CID.


	2. Food and Castles

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all your reviews! I hope the story lives up to expectations now...

* * *

Halfway down the stairs, Jake remembered he had to tell his dad about Grace.

"Oh, Dad, I asked Grace if she could come over and help me with history," Jake told him. "That's okay, right?"

"Of course," Neil said with a mixture of surprise and amusement. As if he was going to object!

Nothing had cemented his desire to hang onto Grace Dasari like the way she had handled Jake moving in with him. She'd allowed them both the space to get Jake settled into his new home and school. It had been torturous, because the only time they'd seen each other had been at work for Jake's first week. The last three months had been a very slow progression for Jake's sake, gradually increasing the intimacy and affection they displayed to each other. They'd now settled into an arrangement where Grace spent at least one day and night of a weekend at theirs, and stayed over two nights a week except the times where Jake had to be in hospital. It had been a very testing time for their relationship, but Jake inviting Grace over could only be a good sign.

"Speak of the devil," Neil muttered as they turned to go down the second flight of stairs and found Grace and Jo standing around the coffee machine. Grace caught his eye, and he figured he should probably sort out dinner arrangements. If it had been anyone but Jo there, he would've tried again later, but he was the one encouraging Grace to maintain her close friendship with the other woman. Despite his lack of personal friendship with Jo, he didn't want Grace to feel any more alienated from her friends among their colleagues than their relationship already made her.

"Hello, Jake," Jo smiled at him as she turned with her cup of coffee cradled in her hand.

"It's coffee, Jake, steer clear," Grace warned quickly as Jake moved closer. Upon her words he quickly shied away from Jo's hand as she looked questioningly at the other three.

"Hi Jo," Jake said. "Sorry, the smell of coffee makes me feel sick."

"I used to hate the smell of coffee too," Jo confided. "One day you'll appreciate –"

"No, I mean it really makes me sick," Jake corrected her.

"He vomits his guts out," Neil said bluntly.

"Oh," Jo said in surprise, before grinning at Jake. "So no coffee for your Dad then, hey?"

"That's right, at least not at home," Neil said, somewhat unhappily before looking to Grace. Lowering his voice so only she and Jo could hear, he continued, "anyway, Jake tells me you're coming over tonight."

"Yeah," Grace looked absurdly hesitant given they'd practically been living together before Jake had moved in.

"Hope you don't mind lamb and mashed potatoes. _Lots _of lamb and mashed potatoes," Neil said wryly. "Dinner's at 6.30."

"Yes, I figured as much since Jake's back on the prednisone," Grace said with a smirk.

"Yep, we prednisone kids need our food," Jake said, pointedly stressing the last word. He'd been good and really patient, but there was only so much a guy could take! "See you in a bit, Grace. Come on, Dad."

Grace smiled as Neil shot her a long-suffering look, allowing Jake to pull him towards the canteen. Somehow it didn't surprise her that Jake knew exactly where it was.

"Prednisone's one of his medicines?" Jo asked curiously, feeling somewhat privileged to have witnessed the admittedly brief interplay between the three.

"That's right. It's a corticosteroid, helps kill the lymphoblasts – the cancer cells," Grace replied, punching her own order into the machine.

"And it just makes him hungry and throw up with the smell of coffee?" Jo asked. Grace laughed.

"No, the coffee's another one of his medications, 6-MP," Grace replied. "We think, anyway, it can be a bit hard to tell. But have you noticed his face?"

"What about his face?" Jo shrugged, shaking her head.

"Jake's face, it's puffy because of the prednisone," Grace explained, turning back to Jo. "It doesn't just make him hungry. He gets mood swings: he goes from being depressed to bouncing off the walls."

"Because it's not like the man in your life isn't moody enough," Jo said dryly as they headed back to the interview room. Grace chuckled.

* * *

"Gov," Mickey burst in through the DI's door late in the day, with Terry on his heels. He pulled up short when he saw Jake, covered with a pilfered blanket from one of the response kits, fast asleep in the spare chair in the DI's room.

"What is it?" Neil asked at his regular speaking volume as he placed a couple of files in his briefcase.

"Just got this back- " Mickey whispered, handing a sheet of paper to Neil.

"You can speak normally, Mickey, he's a heavy sleeper," Neil told him, perusing the paper briefly. "And even if he wakes up, we're about to go so that'll save me from having to carry him."

"The joys of parenthood, hey, gov?" Terry said with a smirk.

"Indeed," Neil said dryly, returning the page to Mickey. "Well, this certainly looks like a promising lead. Interview him – you'll probably want to lean on him, as this in itself is not enough. Make him think you've got more."

"Cheers, gov," Mickey said, and the pair left the office. Following them out, Neil addressed his department.

"All right, I'm about to head off, if anyone needs anything signed or approved, come forward now, or you'll have to leave it till tomorrow or take it to the Super," he said. A couple of detectives came forward for signatures, but when nobody else came forward, Neil returned to his office. Sliding his briefcase into Jake's backpack, he slung it over his shoulders and retrieved his keys before stepping forward to gently lift his son.

He was still far too light for his age and height – he was only on the prednisone for short periods of time, and most of his other medications made him so nauseous that often anything more than nibbling on a piece of dry toast made him throw up.

"Oh, gov, before you go can you sign this please?" Neil turned around to see one of his officers moving towards him with a file.

He raised his eyebrows and pointedly rolled his eyes. Some days, he really wondered the point was of issuing instructions if nobody followed them.

* * *

"So where's Jake?" Grace asked as she hopped up to sit on his kitchen counter as Neil followed her inside, after hanging her coat up in the cupboard.

"He's having a shower, he only just woke up from his nap," he explained, resting a hand on either side of her and leaning in for a prolonged kiss. Grace sighed happily into his mouth, stroking his soft hair as they made the most of the time they'd have with his son absent.

"So, what happened? All the boy said was that he needed help with history and I didn't want to press him," Neil asked drawing back slightly.

"It honestly was that understated," Grace told him. "He mentioned he was not sure where to start, and then asked if I wasn't doing anything tonight if I could come over and give him a hand because you're rubbish."

Neil grinned. "That's brilliant," he said happily, leaning back for a quick kiss.

"We're obviously doing something right," Grace agreed, lightly touching his cheek.

"Given the amount of child-psycho-what'sit courses you've done, I'd hope you know what to do..." Neil teased.

"Yeah, because we covered how-to-deal-with-new-boyfriend's-ten-year-old-son in PSYCH1000, honey," Grace said with a smirk and eye roll. A loud bang from upstairs signalled Jake's imminent arrival. Grace stole a quick kiss from her lover before pushing him away. Hopping down from the counter, she began to set the table as Neil returned to mashing the potatoes.

"Hi Grace!" Jake greeted as he entered the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed in his footy pyjamas.

"Hi Jake," Grace greeted. Seeing that the adults had everything under control, Jake settled himself in his chair, picking up his knife and fork and looked expectantly at his father. Neil exchanged an amused look with Grace, before piling mashed potatoes, some vegetables and a few cutlets onto the boy's plate.

"Can I have some more?" Jake asked as he polished his plate off after ten minutes of silent and fierce chewing. Neil nodded, waving the boy to the kitchen as he turned to Grace.

"Guess I should just be grateful his cravings aren't like Annie Roberts'. She was in for her vincristine at the same time as Jake, and Toby was telling me the girl was demanding shrimp and oysters," Neil said with a chuckle.

"Shrimp and oysters!" Grace chuckled. "How old is she?"

"She's ten. She turned ten a couple of months ago," Jake answered, setting himself back down. After a few bites, the frenetic pace of his eating gradually slowed.

"How about you tell us about your day, son?" Neil suggested, spearing a piece of lamb with his fork. Neil had adopted this tactic from his friend Rick, whose three kids were as well-adjusted as any he'd met. On the occasions he'd gone over for dinner, the kids had always told about their days.

Some days Jake would talk for more than an hour, other days, for ten minutes. Still, Neil figured that was not too bad: his son was, after all, beginning to move towards adolescence (a terrifying thought!), still sick, on a lot of medications, settling into a new school and getting used to his dad and his dad's new girlfriend – all at once. Neil himself had had enough problems with adolescence, let alone the rest.

Still, despite Jake's occasional tantrums (which had culminated in him being deprived of TV, books, and games for a full week at one point), Neil couldn't be prouder of his son's handling of the situation and couldn't fail to be pleased that as often as not, the stress had his son come to him for a cuddle and reassurance.

With Jake _finally_ fed, medicated, and finished with his day, Neil began to clean up the kitchen.

"How about you guys get started on the assignment? Use the study – I'll work down here until you're done," he suggested. "Three's a bit of a crowd in there!"

"Okay," Jake nodded, and led Grace upstairs to the study he and Neil shared. While not a small room, it would indeed be uncomfortably cramped for three people to be in there (and get any work done at all, of course). It was split neatly in half: a large, ancient oak desk rested to the left with Neil's laptop plugged in on top of it. His desk was in sharp contrast to the spartan and utilitarian workspace he kept at Sun Hill where his only adornments were two photos of Jake. Here, a massive, cheap-looking paperweight weighed down several piles of bills, coffee cups and pens were liberally scattered across the desk, and a stack of books teetered dangerously on one side.

It was in sharp contrast to the right hand side of the room: covered in football and gaming posters, sports pennants hung along the side of Jake's much smaller desk, piled high with schoolbooks with a clumsily-folded (and therefore somewhat lopsided) paper crane perched on top.

"All right," she said, settling into the other office chair, and pulling herself over to Jake's side of the office. "What have you got so far?"

"This is the question sheet," Jake said, handing her the crumpled piece of paper. Grace bit back a smile as she saw a smear of jam on the right hand corner of the page.

"Okay, so your question is 'how did castles change over the years and why?'" Grace noted.

"Yeah," Jake said, handing her his history workbook. "So when we went to the library, I did what Mrs Wilkinson said and looked through all the books on castles and wrote notes and stuff on them. Then she was sick, so I'm not sure how to write it."

He gave her a slight grin, opening up a document on his computer.

"This is all I've got so far," he said, slightly sheepishly. Grace laughed. The document was blank except for the question.

"All right, Jake, so the easiest thing to do I always found was to plan what I was going to say before I start writing," she said, settling back into her chair with no small amount of relief. As first a masters student and then a PhD candidate, she had supplemented her part time job at one of the university's cafés with a tutoring income. Having helped students construct dissertations and extended essays of tens of thousands of words she felt comfortable helping Jake with his eight-hundred word assignment on castles. "So, what we generally want to do is separate what we're going to say into separate paragraphs, you know, one topic for each paragraph."

"How many paragraphs should I have?" Jake asked, nodding.

"Well, you need to discuss how castle construction has changed, right? So, what castles are you going to talk about?"

"Well, we should start from the oldest type of castle," Jake reasoned. "So that's that one, with the wooden walls and big hill."

"Good, so what do you need to say about it? Maybe you should make a list of things to say in the paragraph." Grace slid his workbook back over to him, and he dutifully started typing.


	3. Mothers and Sons

**Author's Note:** Thanks again for all your kind words - I'm very grateful indeed!

* * *

It took all of the considerable self-control that Neil possessed _not_ to go upstairs and check on Grace and Jake. He knew that Grace would take that as confirmation that he didn't believed in her ability to help parent Jake, and he suspected Jake would take that as vindication that he did pay more attention to Grace than to him. Jake was naturally bright and inquisitive, and endowed with such a dose of competitiveness that he was remarkably self-driven, even at such a young age. As such, Neil rarely checked on him while the boy was doing his homework – Jake's grades were good, and if he needed help he would always ask.

He wasn't even sure why he was so nervous. Jake and Grace got along well. Sure, they were still a little stiff with each other, but that just went along with the territory of getting used to each other. Right? Neil knew Grace felt that her role in Jake's life was undefined, and she worried about that. Neil had done his best to reassure her that he suspected part of the problem was that Jake wasn't sure what he wanted Grace to be to him: adopting Liam as a stepfather at the age of eight was a lot easier than adopting a step-mother at the age of ten-nearly-eleven, especially with everything else going on his life.

It was always going to be hard, but just when was it going to get easier? Neil sighed, refocusing on Mickey's report (complete with poor grammar, tangential comments and a good spelling mistake or two). All they could do was wait it out. This was one of those things he just couldn't make right immediately. Neil sighed. There'd been so few of such things in his life before he'd been introduced to the world of fatherhood and in some ways he missed that simplicity.

Not too much though.

* * *

"Mrs Wilkinson said last week the paragraphs need to flow," Jake said, turning back towards her after he'd finished typing a list of things to say about the last castle. "So should I say, like, because the first castles were made of wood and could be burnt easily, that's why they made them out of stone afterwards?"

"Yes, that's exactly right, and you just do that for each type of castle," Grace praised him, and Jake beamed as she cast an approving eye over his plan. "Now, you also need to write an introduction and a conclusion. Your introduction should outline what you're going to say in your assignment, and your conclusion should summarise what you've decided."

"Should I say what I think the best castle is?" he asked as the phone rang. His face lit up as he heard it, but he quickly and guiltily composed himself.

"That'll be mum," he said. Grace smiled gently at him as the phone stopped ringing. Evidently Neil had picked it up downstairs.

"I'll go downstairs and make some tea," she said kindly. "Would you like some hot chocolate?"

Jake smiled gratefully. "Yes please!"

"Okay. And yes, I think you should say what the best castle is," Grace said, standing as Neil entered the room.

"Here he is," Neil handed the phone to his son.

* * *

"Hi mummy," Philippa smiled as her son's happy greeting came down the line. He was obviously in a good mood today.

"Hi sweetie, how are you?" she asked, as Liam set down a cup of coffee next to her and headed off.

"Pretty good, you?"

"Good. What are you doing?"

"Grace was just helping me-" Jake began, cutting himself off. "I mean, I was just working on my history assignment."

Pippa could feel her stomach clench. _She _had used to be the one to help her son with his assignments. Still, she grudgingly admitted, Grace would be a good tutor. When Neil had first mentioned her, she had approached an old friend at Oxford who had managed to procure a copy of Grace's thesis. It was an impressive piece of work.

That didn't stem the jealousy she felt about another woman playing mother to her son. She refused to be hysterical about it. Especially as Neil, for the first time in his life, had finally stopped being such a selfish prick and actually thought about someone else. He'd been, unexpectedly, rather polite to Liam and fully backed her husband up with their son. Neil had even made small talk with Liam, and although Philippa had spent a few days waiting for the catch, it had never materialised. .

She liked to think her own meeting with Grace had gone as well. It had been carefully timed, so Jake was absent (both Neil and Liam had been firm on that point: they'd both argued that Jake's presence at their first meeting had only contributed to the pressure, not made it easier). If it had been anyone else, meeting in any other context, Pippa suspected she would've quite liked Grace but she hadn't been able to totally repress the sting she'd felt at seeing Neil look so adoringly at another woman. As it was, she had been grudgingly impressed by the older woman's intelligence and patience.

"Well, don't forget to thank Grace for helping you," she forced herself to say. "What have you been doing at school?"

* * *

"You okay?" Neil asked quietly, taking two cups down for the cupboard and adding sugar and teabags as Grace filled the kettle.

"Jake's having a hot chocolate," Grace told him, side-stepping the question.

It was hard. Grace felt so fond of Jake already: from his interactions with his god-brothers and sister she could see he was big-hearted if occasionally bossy, usually polite, and he was endowed with Neil's dry sense of humour. He'd also demonstrated in greater measure the cheekiness that Neil all-too-rarely displayed. He was intelligent, tough, and his own person.

_By God she wished he was hers!_

Grace yearned to have her own little boy, with light brown skin, his father's eyes, and the same characteristics that she admired so in Neil. Seeing Jake only reminded her of what she didn't have, and although she knew that she would grow to love him and hoped he would grow to love her as well (for Neil's sake if nothing else), it wasn't the same.

"I think the assignment's coming along really well," Grace said with forced lightness, avoiding voicing her concerns.

"I know he will be grateful, and I know I definitely am," Neil followed her lead. "I hated history at school."

"I'm glad to help," Grace said honestly. Neil smiled, stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you," he said quietly, kissing her softly. "So much. You know that, right?"

"I had a hunch," Grace felt herself relax, despite herself, in his familiar embrace. "Love you too."

The kettle boiled, and Grace extricated herself to pour their tea, preparing the coffee machine to dispense Jake's hot chocolate when he was finished talking to his mum.

* * *

"Yeah, looking forward to seeing you too," Jake said, spinning idly in his chair.

"Liam says hi," his mother said, disapprovingly referencing the fact Jake hadn't asked after Liam.

"Hi to Liam," Jake replied robotically. He doubted that was the case – if it was a regular night at his mum's house, Liam would either be buried under a stack of paperwork and bills somewhere in the house or at work still. "Anyway, Mum, I gotta go. Yeah. Love you too. Bye. Bye." He placed the phone down on his desk.

It was interesting, seeing who his parents had dated after the divorce. Liam was pretty much exactly the same as Dad – dry, workaholic, stern – but he and Mum didn't fight so much. Mostly because he always did exactly what Mum told him to do.

Dad had never done that. As far back as Jake could remember his parents had argued a lot, about little things. It wasn't like they'd had massive, shouting matches every day (although those weren't totally uncommon); it was more that they had constantly sort of bickered. Which was why Jake supposed it was good Grace was so different to Mum, despite their initial similarities. Grace was far more patient, and even-tempered. She didn't bicker with Dad when he got into one of his moods, but just waited them out most of the time.

* * *

"Have no fear, Jake is here!" the high voice of his soon-to-be-eleven-year-old interrupted their quiet conversation, and both adults turned to face the boy as he plopped himself on the couch next to his dad.

"Here you go, should still be warm," Neil slid the small mug of hot chocolate to the boy. "We only made it when the light turned off on the kitchen extension."

"Thanks Grace-and-Dad," Jake said dutifully, taking a big sip.

"So, how's it going, son?" Neil asked.

"Good, right, Grace?" Jake glanced over at her quizzically.

"I think so," Grace replied. "When is it due again?"

"Friday. Are you still coming over Thursday?"

"Unless I get stuck at work," Grace promised, sliding a quick glance at Neil, who raised his hands innocently.

"Not up to me, you know that," he said lightly, stretching his arms across the back of the couch to curl around the shoulders of his two favourite people.

"Would you please double check it for me?" Jake asked, ignoring his dad and running his fingers around the rim of his mug.

"Sure," Grace said. "I look forward to reading it!"

"Thank you," Jake said gratefully. "You really helped me."

"Any time, Jake," Grace promised.

"Oh Dad, I just remembered," Jake said, leaning back into the couch and sipping more of his hot chocolate. "When Tim comes over this Sunday, if we get bored with the Wii can we use your computer too because it's hooked up to the network?"

Neil and Grace exchanged amused glances. It was about the sixth time that Jake had 'remembered' something that he needed. Timothy Saunders was one of the boys Jake had met in hospital. The boys' parents had initially been less-than-impressed about the close friendship they'd struck up. The brief time Jake had had to spend in the Paediatric ICU had been difficult for Tim, who was all too aware of the potential ramifications of that admittance. Neil knew that Jake would have been similarly distressed had their positions been reversed.

Still, both boys were now in remission, and they got on well. At least from Jake's side (and Neil suspected from Tim's side as well) their friendship helped them get used to being back at school.

"Of course," Neil replied.

"Has Tim decided on a costume for your party, Jake?" Grace asked.

"He's going to be Ron," Jake said. "Although he's going to need a wig, because his hair's not red. That reminds me, Dad, we need to get me a black wig."

"I think your hair will be long enough by then, Jakey," Neil said gently. "See, it's already growing back out."

"Are you sure?"

"If it's not long enough by the middle of next week, we'll get you a wig, how about that?" Neil compromised.

"Okay," a yawn escaped the boy's lips.

"Bedtime, Jake," Neil instructed.

"Night, Daddy," Jake said, standing from the couch and falling onto his father for his night-time hug.

"Night, darling boy," Neil warmly returned his son's embrace before releasing him so he could stand up and shuffle along between their legs and the coffee table.

"Night Grace," Jake said almost shyly, before his thin arms encircled her neck. Although not as fierce and rough as the hug he'd given to Neil, it was the first hug he'd given her and that counted for a lot. Grace hugged him back gently.

"Night, Jakey," she said with genuine affection. Jake beamed at her, before making his way upstairs.

"Well, there you go," Neil murmured in surprise, looking over at her with a silly grin on his face. Grace couldn't help but return it.


	4. Timothy Saunders

**Author's Note: **Thanks again for your lovely reviews :)

* * *

"What time is it, Dad?" Jake's voice floated from the stairs by the front door down to the kitchen again. He'd set up camp there at precisely nine-forty-five, figuring that Tim and his parents might be early.

"About a minute later than when you asked me last," Neil called back, glancing at Grace in exasperation.

"He's really looking forward to this isn't he?" Grace murmured.

"You weren't here last night," Neil accused. "It was all he'd talk about."

"Well, better he be excited about seeing his friend, than about any number of things that are infinitely worse," Grace pointed out, reaching out to tweak the collar of Neil's polo shirt. "Like heroin, or guns, or knives-"

"Why do you always have to point out the good side?" Neil asked wryly.

"What, so you can wallow in your misery?" Grace asked in amusement, raising an eyebrow as he took another step forward.

"I'm good at wallowing in misery," Neil murmured as Grace finished neatening his collar, her hand drifting to the back of his neck.

"I've noticed," Grace assured him. Neil grinned at her, and closed the infinitesimal distance between their lips.

Their moment was interrupted by the sounds of a car pulling into their driveway, car doors slamming, and an excited ten year old screeching at the top of his lungs, "They're here!"

"Is it too late to sell him to someone?" Neil mumbled with a sigh.

"Yeah," Grace said fondly, smoothing his hair back before pushing him out the kitchen in front of her.

"Carol, Steve, come on in," Neil greeted as he reached the door where Jake and Tim were loudly catching up in the doorway.

"Hi, Neil, hi, Grace," Carol greeted as the small party trooped into the kitchen.

"Would you like a drink?" Grace offered.

"Wouldn't say no to a glass of water, actually," Steve said.

"Come on, Tim," Jake hissed. Tim looked pleadingly at his parents. The two made quite a pair: the slender, small pale dark-haired boy, and the taller, sturdier blonde and freckled boy. Like Jake, however, Tim's clothes hung off his frame more than they should have, and Grace noticed that he walked with an odd gait.

Neil had explained that it was one of the potential side effects of one of the chemo drugs. Tim got temporary tingling and numbness in his feet, making it difficult for him to walk normally. While this usually didn't last too long, he'd accustomed himself to walking differently to cope.

"Bye, Timmy, be a good boy," Carol instructed, straightening her son's jacket.

"Mu-uum," Tim protested, but he endured the hugs and kisses from his parents before following Jake out into the lounge.

"He's looking well," Neil noted, passing the glass of water from Grace to Steve.

"So's Jake," Steve agreed. "Timmy's currently taking his prednisone, that always fattens him up a bit before the methotrexate takes its toll."

"Same as Jake, at the minute," Neil told him.

"How's Jake finding settling back into school?" Carol asked nervously, thanking Grace as she handed her a glass of water. "Timmy's been finding it really tough: I don't think he really realised, and I don't think we realised just how much he'd changed until he went back. His friends haven't…they don't understand, and he's been struggling with that."

"Jake started at a new school," Neil reminded them. "Along with a number of other boys – this year's a big intake for his school. And he found that tough, but not many of the boys actually know about his leukaemia."

"I'm not sure whether that's easier or harder," Steve said with a sigh. "On the one hand, you get to start afresh and you're not, you know, disappointed with your friends, but on the other, starting a new school is always tough."

* * *

"So, man, how's it?" Tim asked, flopping on the couch as Jake turned on the TV and handed him a Wii remote.

"Yeah, good," Jake replied, switching on the TV. "You?"

"School's awful," Tim sighed as the game booted up. "They just don't…they don't _get it_. I mean, most of the time, it's cool, you know. But when you're tired or you start to feel sick, most of the guys just sort of go away, and then all the teachers fuss over me and it's irritating."

"I know," Jake said, patting his friend on the shoulder. "I guess that's one good thing about being new."

"Your friends don't know?"

"Some of 'em. Most don't. They just think I'm good at skipping class."

"Wish mine were like that," Tim sighed. "I hate it."

"It's better than hospital, dude."

"True."

They fell into silence, punctuated by the sounds of their avatars fighting.

"Oh no you don't, that hammer's mine!"

"Haha, beat you to it! Stop HAMMER TIME!"

"Aw man!"

"Who da man?" Tim bellowed. "Dat's right, who da man? Say it!"

"You da man," Jake said reluctantly, gazing miserably at his stupid cartoon character. "I'm totally Marth this time around!"

"Whatever, man, I can so own you with any character."

This prediction was proved, very quickly, to be fallacious when Jake soundly defeated his friend in the next round. Their third game was intense: their pride as gamers was at stake, and it was all Tim could do to mutter a farewell to his parents (while still staring at the screen intently) as they left the Manson's house. Even that small act proved fatally distracting, and Tim found himself yet again vanquished. But it gave him a plan.

"So how's the planning for the party going?"

"Fantastic," Jake was distracted. Excellent. "We've got all the decorations for the house sorted. And my costume."

"So, what kind of food are you having?"

"All kinds! We're gonna have sausage rolls, and chips, and…" as Jake continued listing foods, Tim worked his fingers on the Wii remote. A quick jump, twist, bingo – he had a sword. Another couple of jumps and twists, a couple of sharp hits and –

"BOOYEAH! WHO'S YOUR DADDY?"

"That would be me!" Neil's voice floated from the dining table where the adults were sitting. One advantage of his house was the open plan of the dining room, kitchen and lounge room, allowing Neil and Grace to keep an eye on the boys without obviously doing so.

Grace looked up from her book in amusement, meeting Neil's twinkling eyes as he glanced at her over his paperwork.

"Goodness, it is true," she remarked. "Upon becoming a father, one automatically makes 'Dad jokes'. And no matter what, they're always lame."

"Yeah, they teach that in Dad School," Neil said dryly. "Looks like Tim's worked out the strategy though."

"Get Jake talking about the party," Grace's smile was strained, and Neil set his pen down.

"Gra-ace –"

"Ne-il," Grace sighed. "Yes, there are less uncomfortable ways to spend a couple of days than with your ex-wife, but hey, it is a couple of days. And it's a worthwhile cause."

"You think Jake's a worthwhile cause?" Neil said, touched. Hearing the obvious fondness Grace held for Jake always made him feel grateful for her and for his son.

Grace rolled her eyes at him. "Not really," she joked. "But getting laid is."

"I knew you only loved me for my body," Neil replied with a smug smirk, which quickly turned into a muffled yelp of pain as he found himself assaulted by her heavy book.

* * *

"So, you and your dad and Grace gonna do everything for the party? Cos that sounds like an awful lot," Tim asked.

"My mum and Liam are coming up on my actual birthday, the seventh of December. They'll help," Jake replied.

"Isn't that going to be kind of awkward?"

"Probably, for a bit anyway," Jake acknowledged with a shrug. "But I want both mum and dad there, and if mum's coming, she has to bring Liam, and then I should invite Grace."

"So your parents and step-parents," Tim nodded. "Will anyone else be there from St Hugh's?"

"Annie, Zach, Lizzie and Laura," Jake told him. "The rest will be from Dulwich. Oh, and my cousins."

"What about Lucas?"

"He's back in hospital," the boys fell silent for a moment. "Hey Tim?"

"Hey yeah?"

"You ever, you know, worry about going back in?"

Tim turned to face Jake with his serious hazel eyes, nodding solemnly. "Sometimes, yeah. I try not to think about it. You?"

"Yeah," Jake sighed.

"If you do go back in, you know I'll visit you, right?" Tim promised. "All the time!"

"I'd visit you too of course!"

"Thanks," Tim spit into his hand and held it out. "Don't worry about it, Jake. We have to look out for each other."

"Always," Jake spit into his own hand, and the two boys shook on it.

"Except when we're playing _Super Mario Smash Brothers_!" Jake added lightly after an appropriately manly silence.

"Dude, how is it possible you own this game and yet you're so bad at it?"

"I'm not bad at it!"

"Yes you are!"

* * *

The four adults exchanged glances as they stood, watching the two boys who were sitting forward on the couch, staring at the screen. Despite having called to their son several times, the Saunders' presence went entirely dismissed.

"A minute," Tim said absently, turning the Wii remote with an expression of fierce concentration his parents wished they saw directed at his homework. "Left, left, left, come on – YES!"

"Oh no you don't, Saunders!" Jake replied under his breath, pushing a button. A small, satisfied smile slipped from beneath his mask of concentration as the car he was driving whooshed forward, leaving behind a stream of blue gas.

"Ha! _Now _who's the man?" Jake said, turning to his friend with a competitive smile as his car slid across the finish line just before the others.

"All right, Timmy," Steve said firmly. "Time to go now."

Tim sighed reluctantly. "Ohhh-kaaaaaaay," he drawled as he and Jake left their seats and moved towards the door.

"Tim-my," Carol hissed quietly, prodding her son's back.

"Thank you for having me," Tim said politely to Neil and Grace. "And thanks for inviting me, Jake."

"Anytime," Neil assured him.

"See you next week," Jake said with a grin.

"Can't wait! Happy birthday for your real birthday on Tuesday, by the way!" Tim remembered to say.

"Thanks, Tim," Jake thanked him. "I'll see you next Saturday."


	5. Preparing Hogwarts

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all your reviews!

* * *

The doorbell rang, and Grace felt her stomach compress into even tighter knots. She and Neil had arrived home early today to prepare a dinner for five.

It was Jake's real birthday today, and his mother and stepfather had arrived from Spain at midday. They'd picked him up after school as a surprise – he had expected to see them for dinner only.

Grace couldn't really pinpoint the nature of her discomfort. Sure, as she'd said to Neil, there were easier ways to spend an evening than with her lover's ex, but they'd met before. Briefly.

She just wasn't sure what vibes Jake would pick up, and how he would act upon them. Grace felt that she had been settling into a comfortable relationship with Jake, whereby she got to be the cool replacement parent and it was Neil who undertook any and all disciplining of the boy. Grace just wished that Pippa and Liam were already back in Spain, but that made her feel bad for Jake who'd been so excited to have his mum back. Gar. Maybe she shouldn't have come tonight, begged off. Neil would've understood.

But then again, she definitely had to be there for Jake's party, and if she couldn't handle one dinner meal, how could she handle a day?

"Showtime," Neil murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She smiled tightly at him, making their way to the door.

* * *

Jake shifted irritably outside. The door would be unlocked – he didn't see why they had to wait, but Mum had made a big deal out of it so in the interests of keeping the peace, he waited as patiently as he could.

"Daddy!" he greeted his father somewhat pointedly. Liam had been at it again, calling him _son_.

"Hey mate," Dad hugged him back.

Jake faltered a little as he pulled back from Dad to greet Grace, feeling the weight of his mother's gaze on the back of his head.

"Hi, Grace," he said a little uncomfortably, merely giving her a quick flash of his teeth in an approximation of a smile rather than the shy and quick hug he was getting used to bestowing.

"Hey Jake," he was relieved when Grace simply returned his greeting with a smile.

"I'm just going to take my bag upstairs," he said hurriedly, eager to get away from being in the middle. Slipping between Dad and Grace, he dashed upstairs.

The four adults stood awkwardly for a moment, bereft of the reason for them to be in one spot.

"Evening," Neil greeted finally, pecking his ex-wife on the cheek and shaking Liam's hand. Grace also smiled politely at them both, shaking their hands before nudging Neil pointedly until he invited them in.

"Did you have a good flight?" Grace asked politely as the four made their way through to the dining room and kitchen.

"We did, thank you," Philippa replied. "Well that certainly smells really good!"

"Just wait after you've had it several days in a row," Neil said dryly. "There's only so many ways you can cook lamb."

Liam chuckled. "Jake still on his lamb kick?"

"All he wants," Neil nodded.

Grace shot him a sharp look, and he straightened abruptly.

"Drinks?" he offered, somewhat belatedly.

"Beer would be great if you have it," Liam requested.

"Wine would be lovely, thanks," Philippa said at the same time. She felt somewhat uncomfortable seeing her ex-husband and his girlfriend exchange another glance, before Neil went off (presumably to fetch the beer) and Grace pulled an already opened bottle from the fridge.

"I hope we haven't ruined his appetite too much," Pippa remarked to break the silence. Grace smiled.

"Oh, I doubt it that much," she said off-handedly. "Your son's never full when he's taking prednisone."

"I thought he was supposed to have finished this month's course on Sunday?" Pippa's voice was sharper than she intended, but she hated being out of the loop.

"Neil said Dr Lawson wanted to extend the prednisone course in light of the withdrawal problems we had the last time the dose was tapered off," Grace said, careful to make it clear that she was not involved in Jake's medication.

Neil re-entered the kitchen, and noted with a kind of masochistic amusement the half-sick, half-fascinated expression on Liam's face as he observed the two women. The man nodded to him in equal sympathy and thanks as he handed him the beer.

"She made that recommendation after last month's course finished and I mentioned his exhaustion," Neil reminded Philippa gently. He had told her.

"Ah, yes, I remember," Philippa felt a little sheepish, and a fresh spark of resentment kindled in her at the realisation that Grace knew more about her son's condition than she did.

"Food time?" asked Jake as he arrived in the kitchen, making a beeline for the oven where, to his satisfaction, he could see lots of lamb roasting.

He liked lamb.

"Away from the oven with you, boy," Dad said lightly. "So I can get the food out."

* * *

_Chink, chink_.

The clack of silverware upon porcelain filled the dining room, and Jake wished he were a million miles away as he stabbed at a particularly resilient piece of lamb.

He couldn't decide which was worse: the small talk the adults had engaged in at the beginning of their meal, or the silence into which they had fallen for the past two minutes and thirty seconds.

Was it really too much to ask for his parents to spend some time together for his sake? It was his _BIRTHDAY_.

"How about you tell us about your day, Jake?" Grace suggested quietly. "Mum and Liam may have already heard some of it –"

"We don't mind," to everyone's surprise, most of all Philippa's, Liam backed Grace up. "After all, you told us more general stuff about your school, not the specifics."

Jake looked up, gratified to see both sets of parents – Dad and Grace to his right, and Mum and Liam to his left, nodding and looking expectantly at him. He smiled despite himself. They were all trying, he supposed he could grant them that. And he did appreciate it.

"Well," he said, taking a bite of mashed potatoes, determined to enjoy the undivided attention he'd just been given. "First today, we had science. In science, Mr Chapman talked about rockets. It was really cool…"

* * *

"So, you're one of Neil's DCs?" Philippa remarked with studied casualness. Saturday morning, the day of the party, had dawned fortunately clear and sunny, albeit cold. The guests were due to arrive at eleven, and to depart at two-thirty. Any longer, and there was a real danger Jake would not have the energy to continue.

It also left plenty of time for Jake's small army of adult helpers to fully decorate Neil's house in Hogwarts paraphernalia. The boys were currently, from the sounds of the scraping and muffled curses, rearranging the furniture in the lounge so as to accommodate a larger number of people.

While Liam was doing that with Neil (and Jake "helping"), Philippa had been left in the kitchen with her ex-husband's latest girlfriend. They were making large bowls of fruit punch, arranging food on plates, and generally preparing for the onslaught of a large number of hungry pre-pubescent boys.

"We've worked together for a few years now," Grace said mildly, although she couldn't help but stiffen.

"I see," Pippa knew she sounded catty, but she couldn't help herself. For the last few days, she had taken Jake after school.

She hadn't expected to find it difficult to care for him with respect to his medication. After all, she'd been the main one to care for him during his consolidation chemotherapy, but it just seemed different now that he was back at school.

Every time he said, "but at home we do it _this _way," or "but Dad says" it tore at her heart. Picturing such domesticity between Jake, Neil and Grace stung. Slowly, but surely, she was losing her little boy – living in another country meant that huge chunks of his life were now unknown: she had no idea who his friends were. _That _was a privilege granted to this stranger, this woman who worked for her ex-husband.

"I can't imagine your co-workers were too impressed. Neil's management style has never endeared him to his subordinates...well, with the obvious _exceptions_," the resentment-filled comment slipped out.

"As our personal and professional lives remain separate, it's none of their business," frost edged Grace's tone, despite her efforts to continue sounding mild.

"Of course," Pippa muttered under her breath.

Grace glanced at the other woman, opening her mouth to say something, when the doorbell rang.

"I'LL GET IT!" Jake hollered as he thudded past. "OH WOW YOU ALL GOT HERE AT ONCE COME IN!"

A loud chattering filled the house, and Grace wiped her hands on a tea towel before heading out of the kitchen, Pippa at her shoulder to greet the new arrivals, of which there were many.

Neil's sister, Sarah, stood with her husband Tom and three children. Sarah had, like Neil and Philippa, had children early so only one of hers was under eighteen. Rick and Claire, two of Neil and Pippa's friends from school and Jake's godparents had also arrived with their three children, all of whom were around Jake's age.

They were all dressed up, which made for an amusing sight. All the kids were wearing Gryffindor robes, and the adults wore varying wigs and carried various items to denote their profession: toy cauldrons, wands, broomsticks…

"Hi everyone," Neil greeted, stepping from the lounge with Liam. The round of greetings ensued, with Neil introducing Liam to everyone and hugs and kisses being exchanged.

"Right," Sarah said, clapping her hands to take charge. Her red-hair had led her to the obvious choice of Molly Weasley, although privately Grace thought this was a poor personality choice. While Sarah was far more prone to questioning authority, and possessed and demonstrated a wicked sense of humour, she shared Neil's cool and collected temperament. "Kids, how about you help Jake in the yard? You men can give Neil and … Liam… a hand. Claire and I will help out Grace and Philippa."

* * *

Sarah looked up, catching Claire's eyes. They'd been in the kitchen for ten minutes, but it had only taken them a fraction of that time to pick up on the tension between the two women. They were icily polite to each other, making only the barest attempt to cooperate.

Privately, Sarah felt sorry for Grace. She rather liked her brother's new… whatever it was they were calling themselves. Grace was far better suited to Neil than Philippa had ever been, in her opinion, and she would be a good stepmother for Jake. Heavens knew he needed someone sensible and level-headed, rather than Philippa, who, despite her appearance of reasonableness was really very passionate and impulsive.

Still, she hoped the two women would get over their differences enough that Jake (hyped up on cordial and sugar and lord knew what else) didn't notice the tension. It would spoil his day, which should be special after the year he'd had.


	6. Slytherin vs Gryffindor

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing :)

* * *

At eleven-fifteen, Tim and his dad Steve pulled up to the address of 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'. Tim was annoyed he was late - his stupid sister's lacrosse game had ended late, and his father had insisted they stay until the end. Still, the house looked awesome. It had been decorated with balloons tied to the trees at the front, and a large banner above the door reading 'Hogwarts'.

They reached the gate at the same time as another set of parents and their be-robed son, dressed as who Tim assumed was Draco from the blonde hair, green tie and home-made badge saying 'Potter Stinks'.

"Hi," the other boy said with a friendly smile as they walked up the path. "I'm Connor. I'm a friend of Jake's from Dulwich."

"I'm Tim," he remembered that some of Jake's friends didn't know about the leukaemia, so he left it at that. "Nice to meet you."

They reached the door and rang the doorbell. A loud patter of feet sounded, and the door was yanked open by a person who could only be Harry Potter. Jake was wearing long black robes, had procured round glasses from somewhere, had the requisite scar (probably larger than necessary – it covered most of his forehead) and wore a big grin.

"TIM AND CONNOR!" he shouted excitedly as Neil hurried to the door. Steve couldn't help but be impressed by the other man's costume: he wore a big trenchcoat, limped very convincingly, wore the 'magical' eye while carrying a wand in his left hand. "Wow you guys look awesome! Nice wig, Timmy! And Connor, wow, didn't I tell you you'd be the perfect Malfoy? You just need to start looking snotty!"

"He's been hitting the red cordial," Neil said apologetically to the boys' parents. "Ja-ake…"

"Sorry," Jake quickly composed himself. "Come on in."

"Happy birthday, Jake," Connor and Tim chorused, handing him their presents.

"Wow, thanks!" he said. "I'll just put them with the rest of the presents – we're going to open them after the Quidditch."

"Quidditch!" Steve raised his eyebrows at Neil.

"You'll see," he said enigmatically, before turning to Connor's father and mother. "Hi, I'm Neil, Jake's dad."

"Lauren and Kyle," Connor's father introduced as Neil politely shook each of their hands in turn.

"Come on through to the kitchen," Jake reappeared with a bounce. The inside of the house had received even more attention than the outside. Large banners of each of the four houses were displayed along the hallway, and the coat stand had been converted into a ghost by virtue of a white sheet.

* * *

The kitchen was also decorated, with a large toy cauldron set up in the centre. Grace, Pippa, Sarah and Claire, all now in their witches' costumes, bustled around setting up great big platters of food. The parents noted with a mixture of amusement and trepidation the dangerously low level in the container of red cordial.

"Jake, are you coming?" a Chinese girl carrying a broomstick tripped into the kitchen. "Tim! Hey!"

"Hi Lily," Tim went over and engulfed her in a hug, while Connor stood awkwardly. "You're Cho, I guess?"

"Yep, and you're Ron?"

"Yep. Come on Jake!"

"Lily, this is my friend Connor from school," Jake introduced as the four children hurried out of the kitchen.

"Bye, Connor, be good," his mother called after him. Connor waved impatiently, before rushing after the other kids.

"Would you like a drink or anything like that?" Neil offered politely.

"No, thank you, we have to pick up our daughter from ballet," Kyle declined. "But thank you."

"Not at all," Neil nodded, showing the pair out.

"Steve?" Grace prompted.

"Do you mind if I hang around?" Steve asked. It was probably more than a little paranoid of him, but there was a big difference between leaving his son with another sick boy and his parents, and leaving his son in house full of rowdy eleven year olds.

"Please do," before Grace could reply, Neil's ex-wife spoke up. Steve fumbled for her name. "A few of the other parents are here as well."

"Thank you," Steve said. _What was her name?_ "And a beer would be great thanks."

Neil arrived back just as Grace handed him a bottle of beer.

"Sticking around then?" he asked, clapping the other man on the back. "Excellent. You know Pippa and Grace already, but that's my sister, Sarah, over there, and Jake's godmother Claire," they waved and smiled as Neil briefly introduced them. "Come on through."

_Pippa, Pippa_, Steve repeated to himself as they moved into the lounge. He couldn't help but be impressed by the continuing decorations – everywhere he looked there was a ghost, or cage with toy owls in it, or cauldrons…

He was glad he wasn't cleaning up.

The lounge room was full of little witches and wizards (and one ghost) all excitedly chatting, munching on foods, and playing some video game that featured Harry Potter. A few older kids were leaning against the wall, idly playing on their mobile phones and were probably relatives who had been dragged along. Steve couldn't help but be impressed by one of the older kids' costumes in particular: wearing a yellow shirt and yellow trackpants, he'd attached golden wings to himself and wore a sign that read _Snitch_. Interesting choice.

A small group of adults stood at the back of the room, and Steve recognised them as parents of other kids from St Hugh's. He moved over to join them, not envying Neil in the slightest as he and Liam started trying to round up the kids.

"All right guys, everyone's here now, so we're going to play a few games, okay?" Neil called as he tried to organise them into a rough line in front of a picture of a hippogriff without a tail. "The winner will get a bag of chocolate frogs!"

This promise galvanised them into getting into line with a minimum of jostling, shoving and duelling.

* * *

"Everybody ready?" Neil called as the kids finished jostling into their positions. He was sitting on a stool at the front of the room, and the kids had been organised into two teams on either side of the lounge. Although there was one ghost, a Voldemort and a little Hagrid, most of the kids had dressed up as students. Fortunately, Jake had either bossed them into submission or they'd all spontaneously decided not to come as Harry – for he was the only one there with the scar.

Still, most of the kids had come as Gryffindor students, and there weren't quite enough to justify having the four teams for the four houses. Neil and Liam had had to call for volunteers to defect from the Gryffindor camp (the Voldemort, Hagrid, ghost, and the few Ravenclaws had already been assigned to the Slytherin team). As a chorus of 'yes's' rose from the crowd, Neil began the game.

"In the first book, what was the final task _before_ confronting Quirrell that Harry had to overcome?"

There was a moment's silence as the kids wracked their brains.

"SLYTHERIN!" screamed the Voldemort, jumping up from his spot on the couch's armrest. Bedecked in black, and carrying a toy snake, he waved his wand in the air.

"So much for the quieter game," Grace muttered to Sarah from where they stood with some of the other parents, watching the proceedings. Pippa overheard the comment, and couldn't restrain a smile at the truth of it as Sarah laughed. They'd played a very rousing game of musical chairs, so Neil had thought it would be a good idea to give them a bit of a break before they headed outside to play Quidditch. That particular plan appeared to have failed.

"Yes, Lord Voldemort?" Neil asked, swivelling around to look at him.

"It was the chess game!" he pronounced.

"Very good, ten points to Slytherin!" Neil announced, before moving onto the next question. "Who won that chess game?"

"GRYFFINDOR!" not to be outdone in enthusiasm, a Hermione jumped to her feet with an alarmingly high-pitched call from the opposite team. "It was Ron!"

"Well, that's ten points to Gryffindor!" Neil announced, waving his wand in the direction of that side of the room.

Pippa needed a drink, so she quietly excused herself from her spot next to Liam (who was rather relieved at being able to sit out of organising this game) and moved into the kitchen.

Only to be confronted by a plump, middle-aged woman in tears dabbing at her eyes while trying to remain quiet. Before Pippa had the chance to weigh up the positive aspects of sneaking back without a drink, the woman turned and gasped an apology.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice choked.

"What's the matter?" Pippa asked as gently and reassuringly as she could, taking the other woman's arm and leading her to the kitchen stools.

"It's Philippa, right? Jake's mum," the other woman checked. Pippa nodded. "I'm Mary, Annie's mum."

Ah. Mary and Toby had, for some bizarre reason that eluded Pippa, befriended Neil almost immediately upon meeting him at St Hugh's. It was amusing because they were rather devout Christians, and her ex-husband was as irreligious as they came. At any rate, she'd never spent much time with the Robertses – Neil had spoken to them more.

"I remember," Pippa lied, feeling awkward as the other woman's tears began to dry up. "What's the matter, Mary? Is…is Annie okay?"

Unfortunately for Pippa, this prompted a fresh onslaught of sobs.

"Yes, yes," she gasped. "It's just…oh, I'm just being silly."

Seeing that the woman would be some time in calming down, Pippa went and retrieved them both a glass of water, setting it before Mary on the counter.

"Now then," she said kindly. "It's not silly. Come on."

"Annie's found the maintenance really difficult," said Mary, blowing her nose with a crumpled handkerchief retrieved from her purse. "You know, missing school so often…the side effects aren't as bad as the initial phases, but she's found it really hard going back to school and her friends. They think she's all better, you see, and don't understand why she's not, and she doesn't understand why either. Annie's just been so down recently, you know, we had a few problems with some of the medications, and some of the girls teased her about her hair, and …"

Philippa merely nodded, understanding the other woman's concerns but not really seeing the point of crying. It wasn't an easy time, parenting a sick child, but crying did nothing to help.

"Anyway, it's just, it's really nice to see her so happy today, you know?" Mary concluded with a final sniff. "Not so long ago….well, Toby and I were praying to the Good Lord, and He's rewarded us, but she's just been so down and feeling so miserable I've…"

"She's getting better," Pippa interrupted kindly. "It is a difficult transition – for _all _of them, but they'll get there."

"You're right," Mary said after a moment, nodding decisively as her hand came to clutch the crucifix around her neck.

Pippa nodded. "Now, dry your eyes quickly before Annie sees," she warned. "You don't want her to worry about you."

"No, no, that wouldn't do," producing yet another handkerchief, she wet it in the sink and wiped her face quickly. "You know, Philippa, it's so remarkable what you are doing here."

"I'm sorry?" just as she'd thought she was free too. Comforting others had never been a strong point for her, but she still paused on the way out and turned to face the other woman.

"For Jake. You and Neil and Liam and Grace. It's such a tough time for him, it must be such a blessing and a comfort for him to know all his parents are there for him, moving beyond their differences," Mary said warmly. "It's simply lovely."

An unexpected flash of guilt rippled through Philippa at hearing those words, knowing that things weren't quite as rosy as they appeared. Relief was mixed in with the guilt, though, hopefully if Mary hadn't picked up on the tension, neither would Jake. Pippa smiled tightly and nodded, before hurrying back out in time to hear Neil proclaim the winners of the trivia contest.

"So, drum roll, please," the boys and girls enthusiastically obeyed, pounding the nearest hard surface as loudly as they could. "The winners, of the Inaugral Inter-House Trivia Competition…are…SLYTHERIN!"

"Take that you losers!"

"The Boy Who _Lost _more like!"

"Nyanyanyanyanyaa!"

"Oh yeah? Well, we killed you Voldemort!"

"Yeah, stupid Slytherins!"

"You may have won this battle, but you lost the war!"

After a few moments of catcalling and gloating, Neil bellowed in his best DI voice, "ENOUGH."

The children immediately subsided.

"The winners will get a chocolate frog each, and a special edition wand!" Neil proclaimed as Liam came forward and started handing the Slytherin kids a bubble wand and Freddo each. "Now, it's time for the Quidditch, so if everyone could follow me outside please…"


	7. Muggle Quidditch

**Author's Note: **Thanks for your continuing support! :)

* * *

"All right, so we'll get you to stay in your Gryffindor and Slytherin teams for now," Neil instructed as everyone filed out into the yard. The adults took up positions at the back, as eager as the children to see how this would work.

Three hoops on each side of his backyard had been set up, suspended by piping in mid-air. A line of broomsticks lay on the ground next to the field that had been outlined by large traffic cones.

Liam and Ricky, the assistant referees, moved forward carrying two large soft dodgeballs and a slightly floppy soccer ball. Following them came Angus, one of Jake's older cousins.

His costume had drawn some initial amusement, but it now appeared that it would serve a real purpose. He'd come as the Snitch, dressed in yellow and with large yellow wings. A few sniggers arose from the children as they realised his role.

"Okay, so there are seven players on each team," Neil began. "So fourteen of you can play at once. Now, there are sixteen of you, so you're all going to rotate between playing positions and helping umpire. Who doesn't know what the roles are?"

Nobody spoke up.

"Brilliant. Now you'll all get a go at each position, okay? Now, one person from each team will help us as referees and will watch the Bludgers carefully. The soccer ball Liam's holding is the Quaffle, so you need to try to throw that through the hoops. The two dodgeballs are the Bludgers. If you get hit by one, you have to fall to the ground and release the Quaffle if you're holding it. This is unless you're a Beater and you catch it, then you can just throw it at someone. Avoid hitting the heads, guys, and avoid hitting the umpires and your Snitch. Now, the Snitch today is Angus. He's the only one allowed outside these cones. The Seekers have to try to grab the tennis ball which is tied to his waist. We're going to swap you all around every five minutes, okay? Everybody got it?"

"Yes," the kids chorused dutifully.

"Okay, now who's going to be the first pair to help referee?" Neil asked. There was a pause. "Come on, you'll get a chance to play."

The Voldemort stepped forward with a sigh, and after a brief moment of hesitation, so did a Fred Weasley.

"Thanks boys," Neil said. "Now, the birthday boy can be the Seeker first, and you can be the Slytherin Seeker. You two, and you and you are Beaters, and you and you are Keepers. The rest of you are Chasers, okay?" Neil randomly pointed at kids to assign them their roles. There was a little bit of grumbling – pretty much everyone had wanted to be a Beater or a Seeker, but they quickly settled as they remembered that they would be swapping positions soon.

"Okay, grab a broom each and we'll get started," Neil finished.

There was a mad dash to the brooms that resulted in a Hermione losing her witch's hat, and Draco tripping into the ghost so hard they both ended up on the ground. Finally, however, the children had collected a broom and faced off on the pitch. The two referee helpers had also stationed themselves on the field, eager to help their team out however they could.

"Ready, Angus?" Neil asked. Upon the older boy's nervous nod (the act of standing in the middle of a crowd of determined eleven year olds, all staring at him was beginning to erode his composure), Neil nodded. "Three, two, one, GO!"

Angus immediately made a beeline to leave the pitch, his tennis ball bouncing about a foot behind him, to the disappointment of the two Seekers who weren't quite fast enough to catch a hold of the tennis ball. A dodgeball took out Hagrid (acting as the Keeper for the Slytherins) and was followed quickly by a goal by Ron. The Slytherin team, eager to avenge themselves (and the disgruntled Hagrid) quickly rallied, and in no time at all, the kids were running up and down, yelling and throwing balls and struggling to keep a hold of their brooms.

* * *

Breathing heavily, Neil sighed in relief as Liam and Ricky took over his job as Head Umpire after the third changeover. He needed a break, and a drink if he was going to be able to speak at all tomorrow.

"Tired already?" Grace murmured teasingly as Neil reached her and the other adults. Neil shot her a dark look.

"I've been running up and down like mad for the last fifteen minutes," he protested quietly. Grace smirked at him.

"This is a fantastic idea, Neil," said Tony Tsai, Lily's father, in his soft accented voice. "The children are really enjoying themselves."

Neil paused, turning to look around at the group of children frantically running up and down his backyard. He immediately focussed on Jake, as he always did, finding his son in the thick of the action. He'd been assigned Beater in this part of the game, and seemed to have taken to the role with gusto, pelting anything that moved with his dodgeball (albeit with only partial success). All the kids did seem to be getting into it, even Timmy whose uneven gait made it harder for him to run. He nodded at Tony, unable to contain a smile. His Jake was so far from where he had been only months earlier…

"That's all that counts after the year our kids have had, isn't it?" he commented quietly.

A murmur of solemn agreement rose from the assembled parents, but Neil quickly shrugged off his pensive mood. It was a happy day. He quickly excused himself to the kitchen, intending to grab a quick drink and possibly some of the lollies he felt sure must have survived the initial assault by the children. Sure enough, a bag of jellybeans lay unopened on the kitchen counter, hidden behind the red cordial container (which was empty, and thankfully _staying _that way for the rest of the party). Tearing it open, Neil helped himself to a liberal handful while he moved to pour a glass of water.

* * *

"What does that mean?" Steve's voice was hushed and strangled as he spoke into his mobile phone. Neil turned, his brief moment of peaceful solitude interrupted.

Steve was leaning against Neil's fridge, picking at a fingernail absently as he stared at the ground, listening intently to the other person on the line. "Okay," he sighed. "Well, it's only going to go for another half hour or so…yeah, well, he's been looking forward…yeah, so you will meet us at St Hugh's? Okay. Bye sweetheart. I love you."

Neil's stomach clenched at the mention of St Hugh's, and he dreaded hearing what this would mean for Timmy.

"Neil, sorry, didn't realise…" Steve jolted as he saw the other man, his face drawn and tired.

"What is it?" Neil asked gently, reluctantly.

"Carol said…Dr Lawson, the last tests…Timmy's last blood tests…we had them done yesterday…he's borderline so we've got to go in as soon as this finishes, they said it's borderline though, so it doesn't mean…" the words crashed out on top of each other.

"No, it doesn't," Neil hurriedly assured him.

There was a stark pause.

"It's just borderline," Steve repeated, straightening himself up. "Just borderline. They call kids in to double-check all the time. It's happened to Jake, right?"

Neil nodded. The fact that it had occurred immediately, rather than months later, was a fact he did not need to mention.

"Neil?" Grace's voice floated into the kitchen, followed almost immediately by the woman herself and Philippa. They faltered as they saw Steve's drawn expression.

"If you need a hand with anything –" Neil began.

"Thanks," Steve said shortly, pushing himself out of the kitchen, avoiding the glances of the two women.

"What is it with people crying and this kitchen?" Philippa asked dryly. Seeing the confused looks, she briefly explained, "Mary Roberts was in here earlier, sobbing about Annie's problems at school."

"Timmy's bloods came back borderline. Dr Lawson just called Carol, told her to get Timmy to the hospital," Neil said shortly.

Grace felt her stomach drop at the news. "That's dreadful," she murmured. She felt a little selfish and ashamed to admit that while she was sorry for Timmy and her family, her first thought went to Jake, and how he'd cope.

Pippa remained silent. She knew Timmy from St Hugh's, and had seen how the boys had bonded over their chemo and new tastes in food.

"Jake wants to open his presents," Grace said after a beat. "He and his St Hugh's friends are getting rather tired."

Neil nodded, pushing himself off the counter as he followed Pippa and Grace out. Feeling Grace's arm slide around his waist, he returned the gesture, squeezing her briefly before releasing her as they stepped outside.

"Okay, kids," Neil said, clapping his hands. "I guess it's time to call it quits, we've still got to do the presents and the cake before your parents get here in half an hour."

Loud groans were emitted by most, some of the children were obviously, however, out of breath and tired (including a couple of Jake's Dulwich friends). While a few dawdled, throwing the dodgeballs at each other, they nonetheless made their way inside.

* * *

Jake finished thanking Lily for her gift of a small, ornamental dagger, and picked up the next gift.

"From Timmy, aka Ron," he read, before attacking the wrapping paper. His efforts to unwrap the gift were thwarted somewhat by the wrapper, who had used far too much sticky tape. Finally prevailing, Jake's prize was revealed: a West Ham football cap. "Oh hardy ha ha."

"A real team, dude," Timmy teased.

"Where's my real present?" Jake demanded with a melodramatic sigh. Timmy nodded to the abandoned wrapping. Underneath where the football cap had gone sat a Wii game. "Oh, sweet, I didn't have Zelda and the Twilight Princess! Thanks, Timmy."

Tim grinned, pleased his gift (or one part of it) had received such an enthusiastic welcome.

"Open that big one now, Jake!" Voldemort called out encouragingly. He'd been eying off the large present that had sat on the bottom. Now that Jake had opened all the presents on the table, he was eager to see what was inside it.

"From Aunty Sarah and the crew," Jake noted, tearing it open eagerly.

"WOW!" the others were suitably impressed as the ripped paper revealed the latest Wii _Guitar Hero: Warriors of Rock_.

"Awesome!" Jake breathed with a wide grin. "Thanks Aunty Sarah, Uncle Tommy, Lara and Julia and Angus. This is awesome!"

"You're welcome, sweetheart," Sarah said with a fond smile, leaning across her brother to ruffle her nephew's hair.

Jake looked expectantly between his parents: Mum and Liam to his left, and Dad to his right.

"Where're my presents?" each parent had individually given him a small gift on his real birthday. Dad had gotten him a vuvuzela for fun, Grace had given him a book on ninjas (his current obsession), Liam had given him a new fantasy book, and from Mum he'd received a huge Harry Potter poster that now held pride of place above his bed. Jake knew they weren't his main presents.

Neil exchanged a glance with Philippa and Liam. "Well, this year, Jake, your Mum, Liam, Grace and I have all got you one birthday present."


	8. Casper

**Author's Note: **Thanks again for your lovely reviews :)

* * *

Jake felt his jaw drop at his Dad's words.

"Really?" he couldn't help but ask in a higher voice than usual. "It's from all of you?"

"Really, really," Mum confirmed with a smile.

"What'd you get him?" Tim asked, unable to constrain his excitement. Jake had confided in him how he worried his mum felt jealous of Grace.

"Where's Grace?" Jake asked at the same time, belatedly realising that his kind-of-step-mother was absent, and had been for at least a few minutes.

"The answer to both your questions is that you'll see when you get outside, and that Grace went to get your present," Neil said quietly.

Jake was the first one on his feet, heading to the door.

_Outside?_ Why would they have put his present _outside_? It couldn't be all that big or heavy if Grace could go and get it – and where were they keeping it?

"There's a few people here who are allergic to the present," he vaguely heard Dad's voice warning the other kids (who had quickly followed). "So if we could get everyone to stay back, and we'll just have Jake see it then we'll put it back where it was."

Jake pushed open the door to the yard, moving to the middle where a large, wrapped box sat.

"Why does it need to be outside?" he asked, frowning at the box as he prepared to rip it open.

"That's only one part of your present, Jakey," Mum said mysteriously. "Grace is coming with the main part now."

He looked up in time to see Grace's head appear above the side gate. She opened it, leading in…leading in a puppy. A labrador.

Jake was so surprised he just stood there and stared.

"A dog?" he finally whispered.

"We weren't able to get you a young puppy," Mum explained. "But on the good side, you won't have to train him."

"He's a almost a year old, Jake, so still pretty young," Liam continued. "His name's Casper."

Grace reached Jake, and smiled warmly at him. "Happy birthday, honey," she said, as Casper sniffed at Jake's trousers curiously.

"Hey, Casper," Jake knelt down to meet his new dog. He'd always loved dogs and had wanted one _forever_. He bore only fond, if faded memories of Dad's old dog, Aristotle, who had died when Jake was three or four after being run over. Jake's many campaigns to get a dog (having promised umpteenth times to look after it, feed it, walk it, pick up its poop, and play with it) had all ended unsuccessfully.

Casper was friendly like most Labrador retrievers, and after a few moments of Jake rubbing his back, his tail started wagging. Jake earned himself an excited half-dozen licks or so after he moved his attention to rubbing his new dog's head. He could see how Casper had gotten his name: the young dog was a very, very pale yellow, almost pure white. Despite himself, he felt a slight burning at the back of his eyes and Jake sniffled as he quietly asked, "He's really mine?"

"He's really yours," Dad said. Jake didn't need to look up to know that a rare, small smile was crossing his face.

"And he's from _all of you_?" Jake couldn't restrain the note of hopefulness in his voice.

"All four of us," Mum affirmed.

As much as he was grateful for Casper himself, Jake felt that was the best part of the gift. His parents, and two stand-in parents, had worked together! For him! Maybe he didn't need to take sides after all.

Feeling his knees grow cold from kneeling on the hard ground, Jake reluctantly got to his feet after bestowing a final gentle pat on Casper's head. He hugged the nearest person, who happened to be Grace, still holding to Casper's leash.

"Thank you," he mumbled into her shoulder, squeezing her fiercely. He pulled away after she'd kissed him on the top of the head gently, turning to his mum.

"You like him then?" Mum asked as she hugged him tightly.

"I love him," Jake pronounced loudly with a grin, a statement punctuated by a bark from Casper. Moving from Mum, he flung his arms around Dad's neck, who surprised him by unexpectedly lifting him off the ground. It wasn't often Dad was so affectionate in front of other people.

As Jake approached Liam to give him his hug, however, Liam let out a massive sneeze that echoed around the neighbourhood.

"Wow!" Jake's friends were thoroughly impressed. "Dude!"

"Sorry, I'm-" another loud sneeze. "Allergic." Liam looked sheepish.

"I think that's our cue, Casper, to put you back next door with Mrs Potter for now," Grace said lightly.

"Bye Casper," Jake hugged _his_ new puppy again, before giving him a quick farewell pat and watching Grace take him back out the gate.

"What's in the box then?" asked Tim, who looked more than slightly disappointed he'd not had the chance to greet Casper. So did the other kids, but remembering that many of his St Hugh's friends weren't allowed to be near young animals (Dr Lawson had nagged him lots of times about staying away from strange animals), Jake figured it was for the best.

"Dog toys and other stuff?" Jake guessed as he ripped it open. "Yep. Thanks Mum, Dad, Grace and Liam!"

* * *

They herded the kids into the dining room, where a large chocolate cake took pride of place in the centre of the table, adorned with eleven candles. Neil quickly grabbed his camera (which had been put to good use over the course of the party by Grace and his sister) as Pippa lit the candles carefully.

After a rousing rendition of _Happy Birthday_ which had threatened to render Neil deaf, Jake beamed widely as he took in a deep breath and blew out his candles.

"For he's a jolly good fello-ooow," Angus and some of the older kids began a second verse as Jake picked up his knife.

"Ewww, get back Lily!" the Hermione and Cho Chang quickly scurried away from Jake, who blushed slightly as he stuck the knife into his cake as straight as he could. The boys peered closely at the knife.

"It touched the bottom!" crowed Draco.

"I thought it was if it came out dirty," Tim objected. Jake forestalled the debate by placing a loud and smacking kiss on first his mother's cheek, and then on Grace's cheek.

"There," he said. "Mum, can you cut the cake for me please?"

As Pippa cut the cake, Jake began handing out the party bags that had been sitting in the corner. The St Hugh's friends, whose parents had, by and large, remained for the duration of the party, were the first to leave. Timmy was the only exception, to both his and Jake's delight, as his father did not seem inclined to move from his position speaking quietly to Neil's sister and her husband.

* * *

"Come on, Tim," Steve said brusquely twenty minutes later, finally realising that apart from relatives, he and Timmy were the only ones still there. Steve tried to keep his voice and face steady, not wanting to spoil Jake's day or create a scene.

Tim groaned as he was supposed to, but he did feel a little relieved. He was getting pretty tired. Still, there was something wrong in the way his dad refused to look at him as he, Jake and Neil trooped after his father on the way to the car.

"Dad, what's up?" Tim asked, seeing the tension in his father's face as he opened the back door so Tim could put his party bag and the parts of his costume he'd shed into the backseat.

"Just put the stuff in the car, Timmy," his voice sounded strangled and lacked any force to it. Tim froze, immediately suspecting and dreading the reason behind his father's odd behaviour.

"What is it, Dad?" he asked, trying to stay brave. "What's wrong?"

Steve hesitated, unwilling to spoil Jake's day. Jake picked up on this.

"What's wrong?" he added his voice to his friend's, moving to stand beside Tim.

Steve glanced briefly at Neil, who nodded, his face as expressionless as always.

"I just got a call from Dr Lawson, son," Steve crouched so he was at eye level with his boy. "She said your … your blood tests came back borderline."

"What does that mean?" Tim whispered, clasping his hands together so tightly his knuckles went white. He appreciated the arm Jake slung around his shoulders, and leant slightly into his friend.

"It means that we need to go back to St Hugh's," Steve fought to keep his own voice steady. "We need to do some more tests, and see what's going on."

"Do I have leukaemia again?"

"They don't know yet, Timmy," Steve said with a sigh.

"Do I need to stay at St Hugh's again like Lucas?" Tim's voice started to waver now, and Jake, feeling his own eyes start to burn, pulled his friend closer. He couldn't help but feel a little angry; the day had been going so well! It wasn't fair!

Steve nodded. "For a couple of days, at least," he said quietly. "Mum's getting your stuff together."

"We're going right now?" Tim knew what this meant, and gave up on controlling his voice as his dad nodded wordlessly, his own eyes shining. Tim turned reluctantly to Jake. "Okay. I've got to go now. Thanks…thanks for having…"

"Any time," Jake crushed his friend into a fierce hug before Tim could continue. "I'll come whenever you want me to visit you, okay? I'll keep my promise."

"Yeah, sure," Tim sniffled a bit, hugging his friend back. "Take care, Jake, and um, happy birthday."

"Good luck with the vampires," Jake warned, trying to sound light-hearted. He received a weak smile for his effort, before Tim slowly got into the front seat and strapped himself in.

"It's not fair," Jake mumbled, leaning back into Dad's chest as Neil's warm arms wrapped around him from behind. "He was getting better."

"I know," Dad said gently, hugging him tighter as Tim's car disappeared from sight.

Suddenly Jake couldn't stand it any more.

"Can I get Casper?" he asked, breaking free of Dad's embrace and roughly dragging his sleeve across his eyes.

"Sure thing, buddy," Neil said, regarding his son with concern. "He's at Mrs Potter's, let's go and get him."

The elderly lady had been prepared for a rambunctious, excited and happy little boy, so when Jake turned up with his dad, obviously moping, to say she was taken aback would be an understatement. Still, she said nothing upon seeing Neil mouth _later_ at her, and merely allowed the boy to retrieve his new dog with a mumbled thanks.


	9. Aftermath of the Party

**Author's Note: **And the final chapter! Thanks to everyone who's read this story, and a special thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review. I hope that you've enjoyed it.

* * *

"Let's see what we have here, hey, Casper?" Jake murmured to the dog at his heels as he reached the box of dog-toys that had been left in the middle of his yard. He felt a rush of affection for Dad, who had stopped Adrian and Aaron from going after him to play. As much as he loved his god-brothers, Jake wanted to be alone for a bit. "Hey, this must be your bed. Well, we don't need that right now: we want toys, don't we Casper? Here's one. Do you know how to fetch?"

Casper's tail wagged even faster as he sniffed and slobbered over the rubber ball Jake had discovered. Jake figured that was a yes, so threw the ball across the yard. Casper barked, and bounded after it, returning to Jake, who mustered a weak smile at his puppy's enthusiasm, and threw it again.

He could see that inside, the remaining adults and some of the older kids were grabbing large rubbish bags and paper towels, clearing the surfaces of spilled drinks, scrunched up napkins, paper plates, plastic cutlery and paper cups.

"Jake!" Neil called from the door. Realising with a start how cold he was, Jake stiffly moved to the door, dragging the box of dog accessories behind him. "Rick and Claire, Sarah and Tom and the others are going now."

Casper followed at his heels and sniffed everyone as Jake dutifully hugged and kissed his relatives, thanking them for coming and his presents.

"Ahhh-chooo!" Liam sneezed miserably again once all the extended family had packed themselves into cars and driven off.

"We'd better head off too," Philippa said, regarding her husband with mild concern.

"I'll see you tomorrow before you fly?" Jake had the presence of mind to double-check. After all, he could be Timmy, and he wanted to make sure he said goodbye properly.

"Of course, we'll drop by on the way to the airport."

"Thanks for helping out," Neil said politely.

"It was our pleasure," Liam assured him with a sniff. "Except for that Muggle Quidditch – that was exhausting!"

Grace and Pippa laughed, catching each other's eye.

This moment suddenly struck Pippa as rather poignant. Here they were, all four of them, talking congenially. It was nice - so much easier than the tension and the sniping. It was clear Jake appreciated it too: his reaction to Casper had focussed more on the fact that his parents (and step-parents) had worked together to get him that puppy, rather than on the puppy himself.

Timmy's recall to the hospital had set a pall over his celebrations, and Pippa couldn't help but consider the situation whereby her own son was taken back into hospital. She suspected that Jake would worry less about his father now he knew Grace would look after Neil, and that would only be a positive thing for any potential problems.

"Will we see you tomorrow, Grace?" by virtue of a concerted effort, Philippa's voice was free of any veiled (or not so veiled) antagonism toward her rival for Jake's affections.

"No," Grace tried to force herself not to sound surprised at the seemingly genuine friendliness of Pippa's tone. "I'm, er, helping out my sister."

"Shame," Pippa remarked with a smile. "I'm sure we'll see each other again soon though."

Grace smiled and nodded back.

"See you tomorrow, buddy," Liam said, giving Jake a quick hug before sneezing again. "You're gonna be all right, you know?"

"It's not me I'm worried about, it's Timmy," the angry words exploded from Jake.

"Jake, I know you're upset, but you don't speak to your step-father in that manner," to Jake's surprise, his dad was the one who had spoken up firmly and immediately. "It isnt his fault either."

"I know," Jake mumbled. "Sorry, Liam. See you tomorrow."

"It's okay," Liam accepted his apology.

"Bye, Jakey," beaten to forcing an apology by Neil's unexpected and pleasing defence of her husband, Pippa nevertheless made it clear through her tone that she had also not appreciated her son's attitude as she hugged Jake.

The adults exchanged handshakes and kisses, but after a few more rapid-fire and very loud sneezes from Liam, he and Pippa quickly departed.

* * *

"Where did Casper come from anyway?" Jake asked as he led the way back into the lounge, flopping on the couch and idly examining one of his presents. Connor had given him this weird metal puzzle thing, and he frowned as he tried to work out how to separate it. His puppy sprawled over his feet, contentedly chewing on a rope toy.

"Well, Casper was going to be a guide dog, you know, for blind people," Neil said as he and Grace sat on either side of Jake on the couch. "But he didn't make the cut because he got scared by traffic and guide dogs can't be scared of traffic. Liam knows a guy who helps train the dogs, and he helped put in a good word for us."

"You like him, Jake?" Grace asked.

"I love him," he assured her, reaching down to scratch Casper's ears. As he did so, he caught sight of the stupid West Ham cap Tim had given him. It had been knocked to the floor either during the cleanup or during the present opening, and now Jake picked it up and carefully dusted it off as he felt an all too familiar burning behind his eyes.

"It isn't fair," he choked again, looking between the other two. "It isn't fair."

"No, it isn't," Grace agreed gently, and hot tears spilled down his face to his shame.

"I just want him to be okay," Jake said, burrowing his head into Dad's shoulder, and feeling the reassuring warmth of two sets of arms wrapping around him. He let his tears fall, exhaustion spreading through his body after the long and exciting day he'd had...

"One hell of a birthday," Grace commented quietly, as she leant against Jake's doorjamb. Neil looked up, smiling wryly at her as he finished tucking in his son.

"It has been a roller coaster," he agreed, walking to the doorway. "I didn't get to talk to you much, you okay? Pippa –"

"I think she and I have reached an understanding," Grace interrupted gently. "Don't worry about it."

"The Saunders won't know anything until tomorrow," Neil switched topics smoothly. "So I was thinking that on Monday, Jake and I should take the day off and visit Tim – whether at home or St Hugh's if he's up for it."

"Sounds like a good idea: I don't think Jake will be able to concentrate on school," Grace assured him. She hesitated before asking, "What does borderline mean?"

"Two scenarios, I would imagine," Neil answered, almost absently as he glanced back at his son. "Either Tim's fine, and it's a false alarm, or he's relapsed."

"What happens then?" Grace asked softly, wrapping an arm around her lover's waist.

Neil turned to look at her, expression troubled. He couldn't help feeling a trifle guilty about the fact that his main concern with this most recent development was the effect it would have on Jake psychologically, rather than on the possible consequences for a kind, smart, funny, and brave little boy.

"He starts the chemotherapy from the top," he said just as softly. "Only it'll be more intense because of the relapse, and this is where they start looking at bone marrow transplants as an option. They're risky, because the kids' immunity comes down to absolutely nothing for the procedure, and if there's any kind of reaction...but he's not there yet. It could just as easily be a false alarm."

Grace could tell from the way he tensed his jaw that he didn't believe the last statement. Knowing words wouldn't help, she simply lent forward and placed a lingering and comforting kiss on his lips.

* * *

"Mickey's right, gov," Grace said. "Jenkins might be a thief, but he's got no motive for assault. He's after money."

"What if he was interrupted by Mrs O'Reilly," Stevie pointed out, playing devil's advocate. "He could have been startled, turned around and attacked-"

"What, and after breaking a leg and a couple of ribs, as well as inflicting severe bruising, he realises that she's an old lady?" Mickey objected. "If you're robbing a house and you get interrupted, you knock 'em out, you don't bash them up!"

Stevie watched Neil weigh the two sides up. On the one hand, keeping Jenkins in custody and applying more pressure might garner a confession to the assault, on the other, it seemed increasingly unlikely that he was their assailant.

As he opened his mouth to speak, the phone rang.

"DS Moss," she answered, picking it up.

"Hi Stevie, it's Jake. How are you?" said a familiar voice.

"Jake, hi! I'm good thanks, how are you?" The DI looked over with interest, beginning to reach for the receiver.

"Good. Can I speak to –"

"Yeah, your dad's right here, hang on a –"

"No, I don't want to speak to Dad," Jake's statement had Stevie freeze just as she was moving to hand the phone to the DI. "Is Grace free?"

Grace reflexively accepted the proffered phone. Glancing briefly at Neil, his face mirroring the surprise she felt, he shrugged as if to say, _okay, whatever_.

"Hi, Jake, how are you?" Her words were measured, and cautious, feeling the weight of Stevie, Mickey and Neil's regard as she answered the phone.

"Grace! Guess what?" her sort-of step-son sounded excited.

"What?"

"We got our history marks back today! I got an A!"

"That's fantastic, Jake, well done!" she felt a surge of pride in him. He really had worked very hard on that assignment.

"Thanks, Grace, I bet I couldn't have done that without you helping," Jake magnanimously said.

"Any time, sweetheart, you know that," the endearment slipped out, and she winced inwardly as Stevie and Mickey exchanged _looks_ and Neil looked smug.

"Anyway, that was all. Just wanted to let you know first, because you helped me," Jake said, and in the background she heard a clatter and a bark. "Uh-oh, Casper's knocked over his water."

"Do you want to talk to Dad before you clean that up?" Grace asked.

"No…is he there?"

"Yeah."

"It'd annoy him if he didn't know what we talked about," a mischievous note entered Jake's voice, and Grace smiled. Obviously the combination of the returned marks and the fact Neil was going to take him to see Tim when he finished work had put him in a good mood.

Tim's leukaemia had returned, but Jake had been encouraged by his friend's good spirits when they'd visited the previous day.

"You don't want me to tell him?" Grace asked, seeing Neil's expression drop into a pout.

"Nope. Tell him that the sooner he gets home the sooner he can hear my news," Jake said, grin almost audible. "Anyway, I'd better clean this up before my silly dog like trips in it – can dogs trip, Grace?"

"I'm not sure, Jake, I mean, Casper seems pretty sure-footed. I'd be more worried about _you _tripping in it," Grace answered with a shrug.

"Good point. See you tonight, Gracie," Jake said absently. Grace froze in surprise, while at home, Jake froze next to an ever-expanding puddle as he realised what he'd called her.

"See you, Jakey," Grace replied warmly.

"Bye," he repeated, before hanging up.

"What did he say?" Neil said the instant Grace replaced the phone in its cradle.

"That the sooner you get home to take him to see Tim, the sooner you'll hear his news," Grace replied calmly.

"Gra-ace," Stevie and Mickey exchanged delighted and amused expressions, both forcing themselves to keep silent lest the couple in front of them recalled they had an audience.

"Oh and that Casper knocked over his water bowel," Grace said, deliberately avoiding the question.

"Casper?" Mickey asked without thinking, grunting as Stevie's elbow made contact between two of his ribs.

"Jake's new puppy," Neil answered absently, before whining again, "Gra-ace, what did he say?"

"I couldn't possibly betray his confidence," Grace replied, her amusement clear, as Stevie snickered.

Neil scowled, but seeing that he wasn't going to get anything out of her (and remembering that one of the rules was No Personal Conversations at Work), switched back to the case on hand.

He couldn't wait to get home and get the truth out of his son.

* * *

Loud squeals greeted Grace's entrance into Neil's house as she pushed the unlocked door closed. Neil had called her when they'd arrived back from St Hugh's, his pleasure at Tim's upbeat mood dampened by a fit of what she could only call sulkiness. Jake had continued to hold out on 'his news'.

"Daddy!" a strangled yelp came from Jake.

"This'll teach you!" Neil replied. They were obviously in the lounge.

"Graaaaaaaaaaaaaaace! Heeeeeeeeeeeeelp!" Jake cried as she entered his field of vision.

Grace couldn't help but laugh as she took in the scene: couch cushions lay scattered all over the place, obviously having been used in a fierce battle. Jake was lying upside down over the sofa, as Neil tickled his bare tummy while Casper had joined in by licking Jake's face as much as he could in an attempt to alleviate his human's distress. Unfortunately, Casper's efforts only ensured Jake was defenceless as he was unable to use his hands to defend both stomach and face.

"The other conspirator," Neil looked up, ceasing his torture and pouting. "You're supposed to be on my side."

Taking advantage of the reprieve, Jake quickly sat up and scooted away, giving Casper a quick scratch behind the ears in thanks and reassurance before picking up a couch cushion. Seeing this, Grace quickly grabbed a conveniently close cushion of her own.

"Uh-oh," Neil breathed, seeing the conspiratorial look exchanged by his son and girlfriend. Before he could move to arm himself, Neil found himself the focus of a vicious and concerted attack.

**FIN**


End file.
